


Blurred Images

by Tarlan



Series: Images [4]
Category: Jade (1995)
Genre: Case Fic, Challenge Response, Community: trope_bingo, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Settling down into his new role as a Private Investigator,  Bob takes on a new case of a missing wife, but David discovers the client is not as honest as he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurred Images

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the August 2015 challenge on the **michaelbiehn** comm (Dreamwidth and LiveJournal)   
>  Also meets:  
>  **hc_bingo** Round 6: kidnapping  
>  **trope_bingo** Round 5: extortion and blackmail

It was a missing person's case. A wife had withdrawn all her savings before disappearing and her now-estranged husband had traced her as far as San Francisco. For whatever reason, known only to the husband, he had not wanted to involve the police, hiring a private investigator instead, and that was where Bob Hargrove came in.

He accepted the box full of information and photos gathered by Martin Countsett, taking them home and spreading them across the top of the kitchen table in chronological order so he could build a picture in his head of Mrs. Countsett's movements. She had crossed two state lines while on the run from her husband, but what Hargrove hadn't figured out yet was the reason why she was running. To all outwardly appearances, Countsett seemed respectable and quiet but Bob had learned not to take such things at face value.

Trina Gavin had seemed the perfect wife, beautiful, rich and respectable, until he learned of the seedier side of her nature as Jade, a high-class prostitute addicted to sado-masochistic sex games with rich clients. Ted Medford and the former Governor, who now languished in prison, had both used extortion and blackmail to keep their secrets from public scrutiny, eventually leading to Medford's murder. Bob hadn't come out of his encounter with them unscathed, forced to go against everything he believed in just to keep his own secrets hidden.

In hindsight it hadn't been worth it. He'd lost everything he'd worked so hard for and had almost lost his life too, dragged back from the brink by the very man he had tried to kill that night. Back then Bob hadn't believed there would ever be a light at the end of the long, dark tunnel that had become his life, or that he would find not just redemption but love too, openly shared and so beautiful. He glanced up and smiled at the flash of red hair just visible above the high back of the couch.

David Corelli, District Attorney for Los Angeles. His lover, partner, savior, and the light of his life.

"I can feel you watching me," David called out, and Bob smiled.

With a sigh he pushed up from his seat at the table and wandered over, sinking down next to David and letting David drew him in close.

"Difficult case?"

"Missing wife."

"But?"

"But something doesn't sit right."

David nodded. "The husband? You think this is a misdirection? You think he killed her?"

"Possible but... No. There's too much evidence of her still being alive." Bob sighed again. "I can't put my finger on it but... the husband says all the right words, tries to look the part of a worried spouse-."

"Tries?"

"Yeah. Tries, but-."

"Hmmm."

There was definitely such a thing as gut instinct, something that had made him a good detective before Governor Edwards and Edwards' murderous assistant, Barrett, stepped into his life. His Detective Gold Shield was gone but he still had a cop's intuition and he used it as naturally as breathing while working as a Private Detective. David had similar instincts honed from years taking witnesses apart on the stand in a court room: body language - the tics and gestures, posture, the subtle tells that set off flashing lights and sirens inside his head.

Bob saw those lights and heard the sirens now as he thought of Martin Countsett.

"You want a second set of eyes on this?"

For a moment Bob considered saying no because David was enjoying a rare day off, just lazing on the couch watching football and drinking one of the microbrew beers he preferred straight out of the bottle. He felt warm and relaxed, and Bob could taste the bitter hops on his lips when they shared a soft kiss. Yet he also knew David would simply wait a few minutes and then drift over to take a look anyway, unable to resist the allure of a mystery.

"Sure... Later," he added, because the scent of the man was arousing him; the familiarity of aftershave, soap, shampoo and the underlying scent of his skin.

Bob couldn't resist nuzzling against David's throat before pressing another more insistent kiss against the smiling lips. It never ceased to amaze him how easy it was being with David. How they moved as one, with hands finding bare skin under clothing, touching, caressing, slowly bringing each other pleasure that rolled over into ecstasy, leaving them heavy-limbed and sated, sprawled over the couch.

This was love, Bob had decided long ago, as he listened to David's rapid heartbeat slowing, feeling the soft press of kisses against his hair.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothing, they stood shoulder to shoulder, moving blurred images into order until they had Mrs. Countsett's last known location. Bob recognized the seedy diner from when he was a beat cop.

"I should start there."

****

Two hours later, Bob stood on the corner just across the street from Desmond's Diner, staring at the flickering neon light with half the letters blacked out possibly intentionally as now it read 'De-mon-- Di-e-'. It was twilight and the early evening crowd was beginning to fill the place after a day's work. He crossed the street and entered, taking a small booth and catching the eye of an harassed waitress. Her heavily-made up face hid the fading bruising around her eye and cheek bone.

"Coffee," he requested, "And a question." Bob pulled out the recent photo of Cynthia Countsett. "Have you seen this woman around here lately?"

Her eyes flicked from the photo to the burly, short order cook slamming quickly made meals onto the counter. He must have sensed her glance as he glared across, wiping meaty hands on a dirty dish rag.

"No. Sorry, mister."

She poured his coffee, her shaking hands causing a few droplets to miss and land on the table top, but she never stopped to clean up the spill, moving on to the next customer quickly. The cook's eyes followed her for a moment before zeroing back in on Bob, narrowed with mistrust. Bob smiled to himself because it was obvious the waitress recognized Cynthia, and her involuntary glance at the cook proved he knew something too. Rather than push for answers immediately, he decided to relax with his coffee and wait for the dinner rush to die down. It was the right decision as ten minutes later he caught sight of a woman arriving through in the kitchen, probably from the door leading into the back alley. He recognized her instantly from the photos. Bob pushed up and moved forward.

"Cynthia Countsett?"

She turned to him, eyes wide in panic, caught for a moment between fight and flight before running for the back alley. Bob rushed after her but found his way barred by the burly short order cook. By the time he got round the cook, Cynthia was gone, disappearing into the crowded street just a short distance away.

"Damn it!"

He stalked back into the diner and headed straight for the cook, grabbing the man and shoving him back into his kitchen away from prying eyes, keeping hold of him and pressing him back against a kitchen work bench.

"You want to tell me what's going on?"

The man bristled. "I don't have to tell you nothing."

Bob made a show of glancing around the kitchen. "Oh yeah? Maybe you want to talk to the Public Health Inspector instead? I can see a few violation-."

"Okay! Okay! She started working here a couple of weeks back. Keeps herself to herself. I figured she was running from something or someone but, you know, I just don't care as long as she does her job."

"I need an address."

"Hell if I know. I pay cash in hand."

"What about the other waitress? Does she know?"

"How the hell would I know that?"

"You beat on her?"

"What? Jodie? NO! Her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend is responsible for that black eye. Told him if I ever see his sorry ass near my diner again, I'll give him a taste of his own medicine."

Bob believed him. He had a talk with Jodie but she had no idea where Cynthia was staying.

"Cynthia ain't her name. It's Georgia." Jodie looked thoughtful so Bob nudged her for more. "I did see her at the grocer's on the next block to where I live. They hold mailboxes there and she picked up a letter."

"Thank you."

If Cynthia was having mail delivered to a P.O. Box then there was a strong possibility she would return there sooner or later. He would just have to stake it out. As he left the diner his cell rang and Bob smiled when he saw the caller ID.

"Hey, David. I nearly had her. I'm chasing down another lead now."

"I checked up on Martin Countsett. It appears Mrs. Countsett has a Trust Fund from her recently deceased parents' estate, and Mr. Countsett has amassed a considerable amount of debt. However, when they married her father insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement that will hold up under Californian Law. Mrs. Countsett filed for divorce, and once the marriage is formally annulled in less than one week, Countsett stands to lose everything."

Bob sighed. "I suspect you're thinking the same thing I am. If she dies while still married to him, he gains control of her money."

"It does explain why he was so reluctant to involve the Police."

"I'm glad I took a retainer up front as I've a strong feeling I'm not going to see another cent from Countsett," Bob quipped because there was no way he could follow through on his agreement to deliver Mrs. Countsett back to her husband. He would be signing her death warrant.

For a moment he debated walking away but he'd been feeling a little uptight ever since he hit the streets a few hours back. He had an itch between his shoulder blades and following David's revelation about Countsett, Bob knew exactly what that meant. Someone was watching him. Bob paused outside one of the stores lining the block and glanced casually at the window display, giving a wry smile when he saw a figure fade into the shadow of the building across the street from him. He'd caught a glimpse of a black jacket and baseball cap before, realizing he'd seen the same man outside the diner earlier.

With millions at stake, Bob had a feeling Countsett had hired him to find his wife and then had plans to kill both Cynthia and him to cover his tracks. Of course, Countsett probably assumed he was just some disgraced ex-cop P.I. that no one would miss. Under the circumstances, it was fortunate the mercenary hired by Countsett had stayed hidden outside the diner and Cynthia had chosen to come in through the back alley, or his stalker might have seen Cynthia first.

"I have a tail."

"Stay where you are. I'm coming to back you up."

"No, David..." Bob sighed when he realized David was no longer on the line.

David would expect him to wait near the diner but Bob needed to follow up on that lead. It was only a few blocks away and he knew the traffic at this time of the evening was brutal so it could take David up to an hour to reach him. With his decision made, Bob carried on to the grocer's store where Jodie had seen Cynthia. He'd been tempted to go back for his car but the real world wasn't like a TV show. The chances of finding a parking space in exactly the spot he needed to watch the store and not be spotted were slim to nonexistent. Now the sun had set he had more chance of simply blending into the shadows close to the store - like his own stalker. He took a moment to grab a To-Go coffee from the grocer's store; a perfect excuse for checking out the store's interior before heading to a vantage spot he'd noticed just down the street. Having taken his fair share of stakeouts as a cop, Bob settled in for a long, possibly futile wait but was surprised when Cynthia turned up after only fifteen minutes. She was wearing a dark wig to disguise herself but he was close enough to see her face clearly.

Bob spared only a moment's hesitation before discarding the coffee, surreptitiously checking for his stalker before re-entering the grocer's store behind her. Having checked out the place earlier he knew there was an exit at the back. Bob stood beside her as she stopped by the counter.

"Please hear me out before you start running again."

Her head whipped round and he could see wide, scared eyes the same blue as David's staring back at in fear.

"I'm not here to hurt you... or to take you back to your husband. I know about the pre-nup, and what he stands to lose if the divorce is finalized. I'm here to protect you."

"I don't know you, so how can I trust you?"

"You don't exactly have much of a choice. Your husband's pretty desperate by now."

"He wants me dead."

Bob nodded. "But I'm not going to let that happen."

He could see the resignation in her eyes, mixed with hope, and he knew he could not let her down. He had asked for a chance to redeem himself for the terrible things he had done under duress from Medford and Governor Edwards. This was his chance. All he had to do was keep her safe for a few more days.

"Come on," he murmured and gently took her arm, drawing towards the back of the store. He felt some resistance. "Countsett has someone tailing me because he knows I'm good at my job... and I'd find you first."

Bob knew he was asking a lot from her but he could also tell she was exhausted from running so long alone. Once they cleared the alley Bob contacted David, knowing he had to be close by now. David answered right away, listening to Bob's directions.

"I should be there in a few minutes."

Ending the call, Bob smiled at Cynthia. "I'm handing you over to my partner... and by partner I don't mean business partner. He's the D.A. and he'll get you to a safe house."

"What about you?"

"I have to deal with Countsett's man."

When the familiar car pulled up a few minutes later, Bob led Cynthia to it and urged her to get in, knowing David's smooth, soothing voice and calming influence would put her at ease, just as he did with nervous witnesses on the stand. Bob had always loved his voice - yet while under Medford and Edwards influence he had hated it too with equal measure, if only for the honeyed promise of freedom - just out of his grasp - that taunted him. In those dark days he had wanted to turn to David Corelli for help but the line between good and evil had blurred, and instead Barrett had ordered him to kill David. Fortunately those days were far behind him now and now he knew he had gained far more than he lost. David had brought all those blurred images in his past into sharp focus.

"Bob?" David looked worried, a frown creasing his forehead.

"Get her some place safe." He could see David was about to argue but Bob knew he had to deal with the immediate threat of Countsett's man or none of them would be safe. "Go!"

Bob made a quick call before ducking into the side street, taking his time as he moved back to where he had parked his car in a darkened street close to the diner. Admittedly he could have picked it up later and left with David and Cynthia but he had a plan to confront his stalker - and Cynthia's potential killer - first. He checked his cell one last time before moving out of the shadows and heading to his car. Just as he reached his car the stalker stepped out of a darkened doorway, gun in hand.

"Very clever," the man said. "What was the plan? You lead me on a wild goose chase while lover boy stashes poor Cynthia some place safe until after the deadline?"

Bob grimaced, keeping his eyes on the man rather than on the gun trained on him, hands raised away from his body to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Huh! Thought so," the man replied to his own question. "Guess I ruined your plan the same way Cynthia ruined ours."

"Yeah? And what was that plan? You and Countsett plan a car accident? A home invasion?"

"Oh, something a little more dramatic than that. See, originally we had it all figured out. I was going to kidnap Cynthia. The high ransom was my fee, which her distraught husband would persuade her lawyer to release from her Trust fund." He sighed. "But sadly, his plan to be reunited with his beloved Cynthia would backfire and she would never be found alive. The grieving husband would have the remainder of her Trust fund and I'd be living in style on some tropical island with soft white sand and blue ocean as far as the eye could see."

"But she figured it out and ran before you and Countsett could put your plan into action," Bob added.

He shrugged. "Guess she got her father's brain instead of her mother's looks." His expression turning menacing. "And now you're going to tell me where to find her so she can go join her dear mommy and daddy."

"Did you get all that?" Bob asked loudly, startling his stalker.

Two detectives stepped out from the shadows further along the street, guns aimed at Bob's stalker. "Loud and clear. Drop the gun!"

Bob smiled maliciously at the dismayed look on the stalker's face, watching as the man dropped the gun and raised his arms in surrender. The police had all the evidence they needed to pick up Countsett too.

"Good job, Hargrove. "

Bob nodded at the begrudging respect from his former colleagues, feeling another little piece of his broken spirit mend.

****

Epilogue:

David and Bob stood either side of Cynthia Countsett as the courthouse clock ticked away the last few seconds of her loveless marriage.

"Congratulations on your divorce," David offered with a soft smile, gently kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you." She turned to Bob but before he could hold out a hand, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. "And thank you too."

Embarrassed, he stepped away as soon as he could, moving closer to David and smiling in amusement when David wrapped a possessive arm around his waist. They watched Cynthia walk away a free woman, ready to take back her life without her deceitful and murderous ex-husband.

Two weeks later Bob frowned at the expensive stationery of the letter delivered earlier that day while he was working another case. He could see David was just as intrigued and opened the envelope. Inside was a brief letter from Cynthia... and a large check worth more than triple the originally agreed fee from Countsett.

"Thought you weren't going to see another cent from a Countsett?"

Bob smiled and handed the note to David, laughing out loud with him when David read the signature - Yours Always, Cynthia Halliwell.

He was still smiling when David took him in his arms and kissed him deeply.

THE END  
 


End file.
